


Squeaky Floorboards

by houdini74



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Married Life, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23595655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houdini74/pseuds/houdini74
Summary: A few short scenes from the first few months in David and Patrick's new house.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 83
Kudos: 319





	Squeaky Floorboards

**Author's Note:**

> All I want is fluff right now, so that's what this is.

There’s a squeak in the stairs.

It’s the third step from the bottom, the edge of the oak tread lightly worn from decades of feet running, trudging, tiptoeing up and down. Patrick hears the noise it makes with every box of sweaters he carries to the spare bedroom that will become David’s walk-in closet and it sounds like home. 

After his tenth, or maybe his twentieth trip— he lost count some time ago— he stops on that stair, smiling as his husband turns in slow circles in their new living room. He’s surrounded by boxes and furniture, a crease between his eyes as he considers the placement of each item. On his second turn, David catches him watching and he slows to a stop. “What?”

_squeak_

Patrick comes off the stairs to join him. “Just watching my husband, hard at work.” David’s face twists in two different directions as he tries to react to both Patrick’s teasing and his new found joy in the word ‘husband.’

“Correct furniture placement is very important.”

“It is.” He agrees solemnly. Too solemnly, and David shoots him a pointed glance as he loops his arms around David’s waist. The movers had offered to place the furniture, but when David couldn’t decide, they’d left it in an ungainly pile against the far wall. “I thought you had this planned out?”

“I thought so too, but now that I’m here…” David tries to spin in his arms, his frustration evident. As Patrick holds him fast, David’s eyes dart around the room. “The couch needs to face the fireplace, but that blocks the flow of the room.” David’s hands fly around before settling back into their familiar positions on Patrick’s shoulders. 

“C’mere.” He pulls David to the couch that bookends the pile and tumbles down beside him. “Close your eyes.” He rests his hand at the back of David’s neck, fingers gently scratching the back of his head. “Tell me what it looks like.”

David takes a deep breath and begins to talk. “I want that new floor lamp beside the fireplace, but tucked back? So it’s not in the way of the bookcase. And on the other side, a spot for your guitar and one of the chairs from your apartment…” David works his way around the room, his hand gestures becoming less frantic, more deliberate as he builds the layout in his mind. Patrick has his fingers buried in the soft hair at the back of his husband’s head now, gently threading the soft strands through his fingers as David winds to a stop. 

“Okay?” He gives a final scratch to the back of David’s head as he opens his eyes, David’s eyes are still now, or at least as still as they ever are. 

“Mmm hmm.” David leans sideways, clearly angling for a kiss and Patrick is happy to oblige. He loses himself for several intoxicating minutes in the cocoon of kissing his new husband, in their new house, on their new sofa. “I hope you were taking notes.” 

“On the kissing?” He kisses David again, lingering until he feels David’s lips quirk beneath his with words unsaid.

“On the furniture placement. You didn’t think I was going to move the furniture by myself, did you?”

“I didn’t think you were going to move it at all, so I’m counting this as a win.”

“Well, you will be moving the heavier pieces, obviously.” David gives him a twisted smile and reels him back in for another kiss.

“Obviously.” 

***

There’s a squeak in the stairs.

The sound of it wakes Patrick every time David’s insomnia sends him in search of ice cream. Now that he’s awake, he waits for a minute to see if this is just a momentary departure before throwing back the covers and following his husband downstairs.

_squeak_

Through the doorway, he can see David’s silhouette lit by the light in the freezer. He doesn’t look up as Patrick comes into the kitchen, but his shoulders loosen, just a tiny amount. 

“I thought you bought ice cream?” David’s voice is raspy and petulant from lying awake.

“I did.” Patrick flips on the light above the stove and nudges David out of the way with his hip. He reaches to the back of the freezer, unearthing the tub of chocolate and caramel from where he had strategically stowed it beneath the frozen peas. 

“Ah!” David grasps the small tub with one hand, the other rummaging in the drawer for a pair of spoons. 

He smiles as David hands him a spoon. Sharing food isn’t always something he can count on from David, but tonight is about more than just food. He tugs David into the living room, settling onto the couch beside him and wrapping the spare blanket around them both.

“She’s coming back, you know.” He rests his free hand on David’s thigh, squeezing gently.

“I know.” David sighs against him and cuddles closer even as he digs an oversized spoonful out of the carton. “It just feels like a long time, you know? Plus, who goes to fucking Iowa?”

Stevie had left that morning for a three week long trip to the US midwest to start setting up some of the new motels and David has been irritable and dramatic ever since. Patrick scratches his fingernails lightly on David’s leg, his sleep pants are soft beneath his fingertips. “Guess you’re stuck with me, then.”

“More like you’re stuck with me.” David mutters the words around the spoonful of ice cream, his prior sulkiness is still evident, but Patrick can tell he’s playing it up.

“Always.” He presses a sticky kiss to David’s cheek, laughing as his face scrunches up in mock horror. David’s spoon scrapes against the cardboard and with a cranky sigh he sets the empty container down on the coffee table. 

“I never used to care if anyone stayed, you know?” David’s voice is quiet in the dimly lit room. “But now that I know what it’s like to have people I lov— people around, it’s even harder.”

“I know.” He pulls David close so that his husband can rest his head on his shoulder. It puts a crick in his neck, a small price to pay. He strokes his hand slowly up and down David’s leg, until he feels some of the tension leave him. “Come back to bed.” He presses a soft kiss to David’s forehead before tugging him back upstairs. He wraps himself around David, forcing himself to stay awake until he hears his husband’s breathing even out as he falls asleep.

***

There’s a squeak in the stairs.

Patrick doesn’t even make it up the stairs. It was a Tuesday to end all Tuesdays. It was David’s day off, which is always difficult, not just because he misses David when he’s not around, but because working the sales floor alone is hard.

Patrick rolls his shoulders and sighs, throwing himself down on the couch, barely managing to take off his shoes. First it had been Roland, determined to get a refund for his dollar store foot cream that had definitely not come from their store. After that, it had been Ronnie, who had come into the store, demanded to see David and then spun on her heel and left when she found out David wasn’t there. With an exhausted sigh, Patrick pulls the blanket from the back of the sofa and wraps it around himself.

After that, nothing had gone right. He spilled his coffee on their tax forms and broke two jars of hand cream. And then, he couldn’t find Mrs Henderson’s file when she called, because David must have removed it from Patrick’s carefully constructed filing system. When he opened his desk drawer to find a sticky note, he’d discovered that David had rearranged the entire thing to some sort of artistic feng shui configuration. On top of everything else, the sight of it had made him irrationally grumpy, so he’d slammed the drawer shut and then forgotten the thing he needed to write down in the first place.

So he’s cranky now. A kind of festering grumpiness that he wants to hold close and nurture so he can revel in the unreasonableness of it. He yawns, nestling more closely into the back of the couch, hoping sleep will find him before David does.

_squeak_

He’s on the edge of sleep when he hears David’s feet on the stairs and his voice calling. “Patrick?”

Pouting, he pulls the blanket closer, simultaneously wanting to hide while hoping David will make things better. It’s a sign of how irritable he’s feeling that he doesn’t respond to David, but simply waits for his husband to find him.

“Honey? How were things at the stor—” David comes around the end of the couch to look down on him

“You woke me up.” He’s being deliberately childish and the flash of amusement in David’s eyes tells him that he knows it as well. He pulls the blanket closer as though it’s his only friend.

“Oh no.” David crouches on his heels in front of him. It’s harder to be sullen with David at eye level, so he tries to hide his eyes by burrowing deeper into the cozy nest he’s created for himself. “Do I need to make it up to you?”

“Maybe.” He mutters the words into the folds of the blanket. 

“Scoot over.” David pushes at him until he rolls forward far enough that David can slide in behind him. He pulls the blanket around both of them, his long arms pulling Patrick close. Soft lips find the spot beneath his ear and the tension starts to uncoil inside him. “Better?” David’s voice is soft and Patrick can feel his warm breath at the back of his neck.

“Not yet.” David huffs a laugh into his hair and somehow pulls him even closer, one hand finding its way beneath Patrick’s sweater to rest over his heart. He cuddles closer to his husband, his eyes drifting closed as he loses himself in the rhythm of David’s breathing.

***

There’s a squeak in the stairs.

Patrick lifts his head from his laptop as the front door opens and Stevie’s voice rings out. “Hello?” 

Seconds later, David is running down the stairs, moving so quickly that Patrick worries that his notoriously unathletic husband might trip and fall. 

_thump thump thump thump thump squeak thump thump_

At the bottom of the stairs, David launches himself at his best friend. Stevie has been gone for three weeks, but Patrick’s glad that she’s as eager to pick up their usual routine as he and David are. Patrick can just see her face peeking over David’s shoulder as his husband engulfs her in a hug. She rolls her eyes at him, but he can see that she’s hugging David just as tightly. David finally lets her go and Patrick gives Stevie a hug of his own, shorter, but no less heartfelt. 

“Gee David, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you missed me.” Hugs aside, Stevie’s sarcasm remains intact.

It has taken a while for David and Stevie to find their rhythm after he and David had moved into their new house. Finally, after numerous invitations, they have grown into a habit where Stevie drops by two or three times a week, mostly uninvited. Despite a couple of narrowly interrupted blow jobs and a near miss on the coffee table that he’d rather not think about, Patrick is as happy to see her as David is. 

“That is preposterous. We both know I don’t miss people.” David’s smile belies his dismissive words.

Patrick hides his own smile as the two impossible, prickly people that he loves more than anything snipe at each other in their own personal love language.

“How was Iowa?” The word rolls off of David’s tongue with a moue of distaste. 

Stevie shrugs off her bag and sets it by the door. “Better than Nebraska.” 

A full shudder runs through David’s body. “What you need is wine and rom coms.”

“Or just wine would be fine.” Stevie snarks back at David as she follows them into the living room. 

Wine (and snacks) procured, they end up tangled together on the couch. “Since you just got back, you may pick the movie.” David sounds like he’s bestowing a knighthood or awarding lottery winnings. His free arm rests across Stevie’s shoulders, Stevie mimes a scowl as David’s hand waves in the air beside her ear.

“Terminator.” 

He’s missed this. The back and forth, the opportunity to gang up on David. “Star Wars.” Patrick rests his hand on David’s thigh, squeezing gently. David cuddles into him, it should be uncomfortable, with the three of them almost on top of each other, but it just feels like home.

David puts his hand up between them. “You don’t get a say.”

“Oh.” He grabs David’s hand and presses a kiss to his palm, overriding David’s huff of annoyance and Stevie’s muttered sound of disgust. “Terminator it is, then.”

“I am rescinding both of your movie choosing privileges. And we’re watching Notting Hill.” David’s fingers twine with his for a brief second.

“Again?” Patrick and Stevie speak in unison. 

David rolls his eyes at them as the movie starts. Patrick and Stevie take turns reciting the dialogue along with Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant, talking loudly over David’s protests. By the time they get to the end of the movie, David is slumped fully against him, head tucked into Patrick’s shoulder as Stevie curls up against his other side. He whispers the signature words into David’s ear. “I’m just a boy, standing in front of another boy…”

“Ugh, can you not?” Stevie’s voice is thick with wine and sleep. 

“Never.” He pulls David closer, lost in the warmth of his two favorite people.

***

There’s a squeak in the stairs.

Which is why Patrick avoids the third step every morning when he brings David his coffee in bed. It’s especially difficult this morning, balancing the tray, but he manages to navigate up the stairs without their house betraying his surprise.

He pauses for a moment in the bedroom doorway, his husband is cocooned on Patrick’s side of the bed, a black shock of hair tangled on the pillow. The dark eyes drift open. “Is that bacon?”

“Happy anniversary, honey.” 

The black eyes narrow as David pulls himself up against the headboard. “It’s not our anniversary.”

He sets the tray on David’s lap, securing his own cup of coffee. “It is, in fact, the seven month anniversary of the day we moved into this house.”

David eyes the breakfast tray. The bacon and the orange juice and the heart-shaped pancakes. “You are the most ridiculous person on the entire planet.” A smile teases the edge of David’s mouth and he covers it up by shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth.

Patrick takes his coffee to David’s side of the bed and plumps the pillow so he can sit beside him. “Are you glad we decided to stay?”

David bats his hand away as he tries to steal some of David’s bacon. “You know I am.” His husband puts his fork down so that he can look more fully at Patrick. “You don’t doubt that, do you?”

“No. Never.” He cups the back of David’s neck and he pulls him close for a kiss, his free hand sneaking onto David’s plate to steal the bacon he’d been eyeing up. 

“Hey!” David sounds outraged, but his eyes are dancing. “I take it back, I’ve changed my mind. I can’t stay with anyone who doesn’t respect my bacon boundaries.”

“Your bacon boundaries? And you think I’m the most ridiculous person on the planet?” He’d eaten his own breakfast as he was cooking David’s, but he can’t pass up bacon. Or the chance to tease his husband.

“Food is never ridiculous.” David shoves his hand away as he tries for another piece. 

“My mistake.” He smirks at David and takes a sip of his coffee as his husband closes his eyes to savour the pancakes. 

“Yes.” David takes another bite of his pancakes and nods seriously. “But, it is our anniversary. And you are my husband. So you may have one piece of bacon.”

“So generous.” Instead of taking the bacon, Patrick presses his lips to David’s cheek. “I love you too.”


End file.
